“I doubt that. We both know that you’re all talk.”
An idea formed in his head, one that even had his Charlie twitching in his pants. An image of Kareena stuffing . . . well, something in her mouth—
He shook his head. “Challenge accepted, Rina.”
Prem marched to the counter. The staff behind the register raised an eyebrow.
“I’d like two of those giant pani puri trays, please,” he said as he pointed to the one at the nearby table.
“Two?” The man balked and pulled at his red collared shirt. “That is a plate for four, sir. One tray can maybe be consumed by two people as a whole meal.”
“Two trays,” Prem repeated. The man’s eyes remained saucer sized as he punched the keys in his register and ran Prem’s platinum credit card.
“We’re about to have ourselves a little pani puri eating contest,” Prem said when he returned to the table.
Her eyes sparkled. “What, just so I could prove you wrong?”
“To see if you know yourself better than I already do,” Prem responded. “Competition stops when someone has enough.”
“You know I was on the debate team,” Kareena said. “I was the reason why our team made it to nationals. I play to win.”
“Then this should be fun, since I was on the varsity tennis team, and we won nationals.”
They grabbed napkins and paper plates and pushed two tables together so they both had enough space. Prem knew he had made a mistake when a server arrived carrying two giant trays of pani puri shells. The hollowed shells looked like a tower of deliciously browned golf balls. They were followed by another server carrying a jug of spiced water, and a smaller tray of toppings. They carefully put everything in front of Kareena and Prem, then backed away. Holy hell, Prem thought. They were both going to spike their blood pressure.
“You’re out of your mind,” Kareena said with amusement.
“If feeding you this tower of perfection is going to convince you that I’m serious about our partnership, then bring it on.”
Prem was very aware that everyone was watching them now. He picked up the empty bowls and filled them with spiced water. It smelled like tamarind and mint with a hint of spicy chili. He poured the second bowl for Kareena.
“Are you ready?” Kareena asked.
Prem passed her a shell and took one for himself. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be.”
Prem felt for the thinnest spot on the shell, then tapped it hard with his thumb. The tiny hole formed, just large enough to pour in his toppings.
He grabbed one of the spoons and began to fill. The key to winning this competition was an even distribution of toppings and water.
Before he filled the shell with water, he held it up to Kareena. “To second chances,” he said. “And convincing you that I’m always right.”
She flashed him a saucy grin, then tapped her shell against his. “To renewed friendships. And proving you wrong.”
“Ready?” he asked.
“Set,” she replied.
“Go!”
Prem dunked his shell in his water just like his mother taught him when he was a kid at chaat food parties. Kareena mimicked his actions. Once her shell was filled to the rim, he shoved the entire thing into his mouth.
Favor explosion. The salty, savory water, the tangy spiciness of the chutney, and the soft neutral flavors of the chickpeas and potatoes were like heaven.
He closed his eyes and moaned, then popped them open again when Kareena tossed a napkin at his head.
“You have water all over your face,” she said with a laugh. “Are you already calling it quits after one?”
“Not on your life, Rina, honey,” he said. Prem immediately filled a second shell and shoved it in his mouth.
By the fifth pani puri, they were starting to attract a crowd.
By the dozenth, the owner of the restaurant pulled out a small dry erase board and started counting for them.
When they reached two dozen, Prem’s stomach was cramping, and he felt like he was about to have water gushing out of his eyeballs. But he refused to give up just yet. This was about his honor now.
As Prem pushed another through his lips, he watched Kareena do the same. Her eyes teared up, and she bit down on the shell.
He barely managed to swallow one more and knew that the nausea was a bad sign. The satiety reflux triggered a long time ago and was now prompting vomit if he had any more. Prem had to stop. He collapsed back against his seat.
“I’m out,” he croaked. Someone dabbed a napkin to his forehead.
The crowd that had assembled around him booed.
Prem watched as Kareena’s fingers trembled. She grabbed one of the last remaining shells on the tray and cracked it easily. It took her a few seconds to scrape the last of the fillings out of their bowls and fill the shell. And her forehead was dewy.
“This is the winning pani puri,” the owner whispered. “If you eat this, you are the champion.”
Kareena tilted her bowl to pour the rest of her water into the shell, then shoved it into her mouth.
She chewed, then swallowed.
The restaurant waited. No one made a sound.
Kareena got shakily to her feet, then raised both fists in the air. “I win!”
The room erupted in cheers and applause.
Uncles patted her on the back, aunties cheered her on by whistling. The owner handed her a gift card to the restaurant for fifty dollars and thanked her for such a great impromptu show.
Prem knew he was grinning ear to ear. He couldn’t help it. She had so much joy on her face. It was the kind of expression that turned her from sexy into stunning. It was also the expression that told him this woman was going to get exactly what she wanted.
Kareena dabbed her face with a napkin and tossed it on the table. “Thank you for a . . . fun non-date, Dr. Prem Verma.”
Prem slowly got to his feet. He leaned over the table, across empty dishes and plates, and ignoring her wide-eyed expression, as well as the gasps from those still watching, he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. He tasted the salty tang of the pani puri water and felt her soft skin. “Next time we’re going out on a real date.”
When her cheeks flushed, he knew that he’d gotten her.
That’s right, he thought. Match point.
Chapter Eleven
Kareena
User 567900: Hey there
Kareena: Hey
User 567900: You look familiar. Do you do porn?
Kareena: BLOCK
Trevor: Hey. I like your profile!
Kareena: Thanks! I like yours.
Trevor: Awesome. Wanna fuck?
Kareena: BLOCK
Guru: Hey
Kareena: Hey
Guru: What’s good?
Kareena: Uh, nothing. Just getting off work now.
Kareena: Hello?
Kareena: You know what? Fair enough. I’ve ghosted people, too.
Guru: BLOCK
Satyam: Hey. How’s it going?
Kareena: Not bad. How are you?
Satyam: I’m great. I mean, other than being online.
Kareena: Oh, I know what you mean.
Satyam: So would it be weird if I gave your number to my mom?
Satyam: She wants to make sure you’re legit and from a good family
Satyam: She also thinks that “looking for true love”’ is cliché on your profile. And that you need to lower your standards a bit, and that I may also be too good for you. Also, she thinks you look familiar.
Kareena: BLOCK
Prem: Hey, how goes wedding dress shopping?
Kareena: Fine. I’m swiping on dating profiles while I’m waiting, so it’s productive.
Prem: I told you, you should just go out with me. You already know that I can keep up with you in a pani puri battle.
Kareena: But can you give me what I need?
Prem: Did you know that romantic love wasn’t even a factor in marriages until the late eighteenth century? And not just for South Asians.
Kareena: I’ll take that as a no.
Prem: I can buy you time for your house. Isn’t that what you want?
Kareena read Prem’s last text message over again. She had no idea what she was supposed to say to him or what she was supposed to do.